


Take a Break, That Would Be Enough

by sunflowermars



Category: Hamilton - Miranda
Genre: 'y/n' isn't used since i'm not a fucking slut, Dad!Washington, Gen, Gender-neutral Reader, George Washington is a Dad, Hamilton References, domestic and cute, i just avoid mentioning the reader's name, if you want to relax this is the fic for you, if you're like author and have daddy issues, reader is tired but doesn't know when to stop, reader is washington's child, there's nothing to worry about, y'all have no idea how hard it is to write in 2nd person pov
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-06
Updated: 2019-03-06
Packaged: 2019-11-13 02:15:46
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 598
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18022922
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sunflowermars/pseuds/sunflowermars
Summary: Your father, George Washington, takes care of you when you're overworking yourself.





	Take a Break, That Would Be Enough

**Author's Note:**

> i haven't written anything in ages, so i apologize if my style appears a little out of pace. i fell out of practise.

You’d been writing your english essay non-stop for what must have been a couple hours now. Your eyes were sore. Your back was aching. Yet, you found yourself unable to take a break. You were well aware that your well-being was in desperate need of a pause, but the idea of not handing in the essay in on time forced you to withstand the circumstances and work. You were smashing the keyboard, along with every expectation. Handing in the essay early and seeing the teacher pleasantly surprised was worth this. It would help you gain their favour, and possibly achieve a finer grade. You were writing as if your life depended on it. The truth was, you were only aware of the consequences.

A knock at the door broke your concentration. ‘Come in,’ you pronounced languidly. Your dad, George Washington, entered the room, closing the door gingerly behind himself. For the first time in hours, you withdrew your eyes from the screen of your laptop, to peruse your dad. ‘You still up?’ he asked, gently setting a cup of warm cocoa on your desk. You rubbed your temples. ‘Yeah,’ you said, gulping down the cocoa, only realizing how sore your throat felt.

Your dad bent over to look at your laptop screen, to see what you were working on. He squinted, read a few sentences, stood up back straight, and exhaled. ‘It’s late, you should really get some sleep,’ he said. It wasn’t the commanding tone he used so often to speak during phone calls from work, but rather a voice of concern, with a genuine worry underlining it. ‘There’s no substitute for it.’

You yawned. He rubbed your shoulders, as he had recognized before you how tense you were. You closed your eyes for a second or two. ‘Yeah, I know, but I’m almost done with this paragraph,’ you muttered, ‘and besides-’ He cut you off. ‘Go to bed. That’s an order from your commander.’

You looked at him with a sleepy, playfully annoyed smile. He chuckled. In a second, your eyes started closing, and your head slowly collapsed into your father’s arms. He let you. You could feel him gently stroking your hair, and smiled. Both of you stayed in that position for a while, your head on his arms, silent, still, as if nothing else mattered.

Stiffiling a yawn, you finally stood up, and wrapped your arms around your dad. He hugged you back. You buried your head in his clothes, and let out another deep breath. 'I love you,' he wrispered, embracing you tightly. 'I love you, too, dad,' you said, your words partially muffled by his shirt. Dad squeezed you, and then let go.

'Now, go take a shower,' he ordered. You sighed. 'But what about my essay? I wanted to write at least two more pages today-' you began. 'When's it due?' your father asked. A silence fell in the room. 'In a week?' you replied, knowing full-well that the truth won't do you any good. Alas, it was the truth. Your dad gripped your shoulders and squeezed them. 'See? You have nothing to worry about! I'm sure you're ahead of your classmates, considering that most of them probably haven't even started writing,' he looked into your eyes, attempting to talk some sense into your soul.

You sighed, shaking your head. 'Alright, but if I fail the class, it's on you!' You began walking out of your room, toward the bathroom. 'What do you mean? You physically can't fail the class if you write all the assignments three months early!'

You smiled.


End file.
